


remember who you are (i know who you are)

by orphan_account



Category: Moana (2016)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 02:14:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17133128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Te Kā burns with rage. She doesn't remember.





	remember who you are (i know who you are)

**Author's Note:**

> An older story. I thought I might as well post it here.

  Her rage was _painful_. Her blistering skin, hard, broke with every movement and the magma underneath could be seen. She was fire and death incarnate – the hollow shell of what she once was. She always hated magma – how it looked so much like an oozing scab. Te Fiti had been glad to see it buried deep in the earth.

It made her transformation into Te Kā all the more painful, because she had become the physical embodiment of the thing she could not bear to look at. She was hollow, now – blazing without purpose, angry with the world for what had been stolen from her. She had given everything she had when creating life. She had watched islands rise from the depths of the ocean and heard the first birds chirrup with delight when they were able to spread the wings in the sunlight. She had loved everything about the earth – she thought that giving them life would have been enough.

No, they had to have her heart as well. And now she was without purpose. Broken, incomplete…there was an empty space on her chest in the shape of a spiral where the heart should have been. Her entire breast ached with its loss. If she had been capable of shedding tears, she certainly would have for what could never be returned.

All she had left was the ability to inflict the same wretched pain on others.

She wanted to hate the girl, but there was nothing left inside of her for that. All she could scratch up was the same agony that made her want to howl like a dog and crawl away to lick her wounds – but the anger, ever-present and blazing – prevented her from doing so. The girl had a face so familiar – the face Te Fiti herself had once known. Beautiful and round with large eyes and a determined set of her stubborn mouth. The wind whipped the long, thick hair away from the girl's sloped shoulders, and Te Kā felt like her chest was caving in.

She knew, at that moment, that she was going to destroy this girl who reminded her so much of herself. This girl with a fierce heart, a brave stance, but such a kind and forgiving spirit.

The ocean parted before the girl, unfolding down the middle like petals on a flower. Te Kā felt a growl rumble its way up her chest, shuddering past her lips like a feral animal waiting to pounce. That was all, wasn't she? Just a creature. A demon. She was no longer the goddess – the island - the beautiful gift of nature and life itself. She had no more forgiveness in her, no mercy, and no pity. She was not going to let this small child stand in her way. Those small, brown hands would have just as quickly snatched her heart away if they had been given the chance first, Te Kā was sure of that.

She dropped down on all fours – a mountain buckling as its base. The lava was roaring in her ears, coursing through her veins. She was burning from the inside out. She wanted to shove her face into the ocean's serene depths and let its cool waves caress her face. She wanted to douse the lava. But she was afraid she would die. She was afraid to exist, too. She was afraid to do anything – she was so lost. As lost as her heart.

She was just a shell.

She was going to destroy them all.

Te Kā dragged her clocked hands against the ground. She heard the girl's voice rise above the roar of the rushing ocean. Te Kā couldn't bring herself to care as she started to run – bolting faster than a wildcat on the hunt. She was gaining on the girl with leaps and bounds. She was going to take her down. Burn her. Devour her.

The girl was fearless. She watched Te Kā advance without flinching. Her eyes were sorrowful, rather than angry. Her gentle, sweet voice continued to climb without wavering. She was singing. She was reaching out. She understood. She was not angry.

Te Kā could fill her will giving out almost as surely as her legs beneath her. She was slowing. She approached the girl almost timidly. She was cooling down, the fire fading, the rage dissipating. Sorrow overwhelmed her. Sorrow, regret, maybe…maybe a touch of something else.

Could Te Kā really forgive herself?

She had almost completely cooled by the time she reached the girl. The girl stood up on her toes, neck craned as her lips pursed – her words trailing off into a gentle whisper as she placed a light kiss on Te Kā's cheek.

Te Kā knew then that she was not needed any longer.

Te Fiti remembered who she was.

   
 

 


End file.
